


Saving face

by katiebuttercup



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, little bit of hurt lots of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 15:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18780754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: Jaime wakes up from his night with Brienne to find she has been spreading rumours





	1. Chapter 1

She watches him sleep, fingers itching to run through his hair but she stays her hand. It’s not her place. Not in the morning light. 

She rolls onto her back and contemplates the ceiling. Last night had been thrilling and awkward and amazing, but she was very aware of what Jaime had been careful not to say or do. No promises, no commitments. She knew she should have held her chastity tighter, if no one wanted her before they certainly wouldn’t want her now she knew the touch of a man. 

They had been more than a little drunk, on wine and relief and mind numbing dread of the future surely that was what had brought Jaime to her door last night. She knew he cared for her-perhaps more than any man ever had or would ever again, but he didn’t love her. She accepted that. His friendship, half insult and half brotherhood meant the world to her. And so she had let herself have this moment with him. Looking back now she felt sure she had been greedy, selfish in her desires. 

No, there was no going back, there was only forward. She would do everything in her power to help Jaime save face. 

*

Jaime isn’t alarmed when he wakes and finds the bed empty, Brienne always rose before him, eager to meet the day and the new challenge. He’ll have to teach her about lie ins and their numerous advantages.

He dresses and splashed water onto his face, stumbling down to break his fast. He settles on the bench next to his brother, drawing back in surprise when the dwarf whacks him with his spoon. 

“I don’t quite know how you managed to bungle seducing your lady knight brother” Tyrion says, “but it must have been quite the feat”

Jaime rubs the sore spot on his shoulder, “what are you talking about!”

“Even you aren’t dense enough not to follow through when you stand on the threshold of your woman’s door, or perhaps all those years with Cersei have truly made you lose your touch,”

Jaime blinks, he’s too hungover for this conversation.

“I don’t understand-“

“You are supposed to be drunk enough to get the courage to go to your lady knight’s door not to argue with her and then collapse in a chair,” Tyrion says reprovingly. 

He’s definitely not drunk enough. The pain slices through him, sharp and insipid when he begins to peice together the story Brienne has told; essentially that they argued and rather than sleeping in her arms he spent the night in her hard backed chair.

Fuck. 

The worst part is that everyone apparently believes this ridiculous tale, as if they didn’t see him stumble after her to her quarters. If it had been any other woman but Brienne would they have bought such an innocent story. Of course they wouldn’t. But because Brienne was a knight and ugly it seemed perfectly natural that he would prefer her chair rather than her bed. 

Damn it all to the seven hells. More if he could find them. 

Damn them and damn her for caring so much. 

He gets up, suddenly not hungry, the pounding him his skull becoming more pronounced every second. He ignores his brothers call and finally manages to make it to bed. 

When he wakes the rumour has well and truly festered. He doesn’t know if everyone’s misplaced smirk is because they believe him to be above bedding a giantess or simply curiosity. He doesn’t care. 

Only Sansa Stark gives him a long, assessing look, one that sears him to the bone. She is a child and yet her look is a hundred years old, inquisitive, insightful, daring. Brienne is not only her sworn sword but her friend and he has no doubt that should Brienne even give a hint of unhappiness his balls would be for the chop. 

He’s not even being figurative.

He hates everyone and most of all he hates that the world has done this to Brienne, made what was beautiful and sacred into something tawdry, that the world has told her she doesn’t deserve the touch of a man. He hates Brienne for believing it and for thinking of protecting him before protecting herself. 

He straightens his spine. He will go to her tonight, sober, he will show her what it is a man can do for a woman, how a woman like her should be loved. And he’ll make sure she knows that her bed is the only place he wants to be


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne’s chambers were always fastidiously tidy, Jaime wandered around, picking things up and looking at them before setting them back down. It’s not because he’s nervous. 

Outside the windows the night is drawing close, the room in lit by the fire he had painstakingly built in the grate. He’s tired, he spent most of the day training, and being thrown into the dirt by Brienne. He supposed he shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as he had, and since their night together laying on the ground out of breath with Brienne kneeling on his chest brought other connotations. He’d complained of course, goaded, because he loved the look on her face when he did so. 

Dinner would soon be over and Brienne would head to her quarters, the woman was like clockwork. Grinning to himself he shucked his shirt off, much easier when he was sober, and threw it on the floor mostly because he knew it would vex her. 

He’d left his trousers on, tonight was about reaffirming their bond-this thing that was beyond sex and brotherhood that Jaime didn’t have a word for. 

The point was that he was here. In Brienne’s bed, because he wanted to be. 

He’s settled himself beneath the covers when Brienne walks in, clearly preoccupied. She walked straight to her small table and began to disrobe stopping when she saw Jaime’s shirt on the floor. 

“What are you doing here?” If it were possible he would have said she was more skittish then last night, holding her shirt, unlaced as it was close to her chest. Jaime took a moment to appreciate the sloping curve of her neck, her broad shoulders that bore the weight of the world bravely and unashamedly and knew he loved her. 

“Waiting for you, I thought you’d never be done with dinner”

His cavalier tone must have worked because Brienne let go of her shirt and Jaime was rewarded with an unblemished view of her chest. 

“Why here?!”

He managed to keep his eyes on her face but it was a battle. 

“Because this is where you are,” he reached for her, her fingers were cold. “Now are you coming to bed or not?”

Brienne pulled away unhappily, “is that what you came here for? Sex?”

“No,” Jaime said cautiously, “if I wanted sex I could go to a tavern myself,” he took her hand again, the strong, dexterous fingers trembling. 

He had done that, turned the woman into a knight and a knight into a woman. He drew her closer, from her standing position she was so much taller than he. Jaime rested his head against her belly, his strong warrior woman held him. He breathed in her goodness and tried to make himself believe he deserved it.

“I made you a fire,” Jaime said into her tunic, she frowns at him, “what?”

Jaime inclined his head to the fire, “warm and toasty as Milady commands,” 

Her mouth falls open, “jaime...”

His knight was lost for words, almost wanted to call for Podrick to note down the time and place for prosperity. 

“If you just want me for my stunning good looks and personality, I will understand” Jaime said gravelly and yes, there it was, Brienne burst into helpless laughter, lines of worry melted away into mirth. He wants to put that look on her face a hundred times again. 

Hesitantly, as if approaching a wild animal she places her hand on his jaw, he leaned into her touch. 

“Well you are very handsome,” Brienne allowed, she paused, a crease appearing as though she were about to impart bad news, “your personality on the other hand,”

Jaime feigned indignation, pulling her down on top of him, loving the weight of her on top of him. 

“I’ll have you know I have a sparkling personality,”

Brienne’s made a face; “cant say I’ve heard anything about a sparkling personality, an arrogant, know it all perhaps, maybe you mean your brother-“

“Wench!” Jaime snarled happily, and stopped her traitorous mouth with a kiss.


End file.
